Before I lose the feeling, I really want to capture the experience and emotions of my marathon yesterday.
The LA Marathon, with 25,000 runners and all the supporters along the way was such an experience of community. The racers collectively doing something challenging, and the incredible cheering section that stretched in a 26 mile ribbon across the city were all there together to celebrate and help each other along. One of the incredible things about marathons is that you have the small field of elite runners at the front of the race, you have a fairly large group of very good runners who are working on their goal time, or trying to qualify for Boston. But then you have the rest of us. Anyone can give it a shot, sign up, train, and try to run or walk a marathon.
Every one of those runners and walkers has a story, a personal reason for challenging their legs to carry them 26.2 miles. The elite athletes amaze everyone with their combination of good genetics and years of rigorous training. Some are running to raise money for a charity. Others began running to get in shape or quit smoking. Some run for a relative or friend who passed away. Many just want to prove to themselves that they are capable of doing something incredibly difficult. Every story is unique and inspiring.
There were the legacy runners, 233 marathoners who have completed every LA Marathon since it's inception in 1986. The oldest is 87, and I saw him during the race. At one point when my friends were behind me a bit, I stopped to sit on the curb and stretch my IT band. One of the legacy runners came over to me and said, "You are so close! Just picture the ocean. You can do it! Picture the ocean. Focus on the ocean." And I knew that I could do it, even though 10 miles to go hardly seems close.
There were volunteers: the website says 6000 of them, but I wonder if there weren't more. They handed out water and Powerade and vaseline. Some of the volunteers looked to be about 5 or 6 years old, holding out the water cups to us as we came by to grab a sip. They cheered and directed us at the beginning and end. They put medals on everyone as they finished, handed out bananas and crackers and bagels, more water and Powerade, and mylar blankets as we wandered in the finish area, cooling down. Next year if I have the weekend off (as clinical rotations can be unpredictable) I'm planning to volunteer.
There was the cheering crowd: it wasn't just the friends and family who came out with signs and enthusiasm to spur along their racers. There were bands playing along the route, block parties, both planned and spontaneous, crazy costumes, groups of cheerleaders. People who live along the route were leaning out their windows to cheer or playing music. Some of them came out with noise makers, brought trays of orange slices or bananas out to the runners, or set up their own little water or gatorade stations. My aunt's church is right along the route and they canceled services for the day and asked the congregation to participate in the community.
There were the Niketown employees all wearing zip-up green spandex bodysuits and jumping around with signs. There was the purple-themed block party, where everyone was wearing purple, there were purple strings of balloons, faces were painted in purple designs. There were groups of cheerleaders, probably from local high schools, cheering at two points along the course, and then there was the group of drag cheerleaders--perhaps even more entertaining. There were runners in costume. Running the race you only see the people who are right around you--there was a banana keeping pace with me for much of the day. But my family and friends saw people running in giant furry costumes, capes, crazy hats...
It's amazing how much boost you get from the cheers of the crowd and encouragement of your fellow amateur athletes--all strangers, but not today. Today, everyone is celebrating challenge and achievement together. The energy and enthusiasm of everyone around you can keep you going when you might otherwise give up.
And then there was my own little community. My parents drove down from Utah to see me run. They came with me to the Expo to pick up my bib and get freebies from the booths. They took my friends and I out for a big spaghetti dinner. They got up at 4am, drove me and my friend to the start at Dodger Stadium, sitting in ridiculous traffic the whole way. They drove all around the city, negotiating street closures to meet up with my friends and cheer me on at different points along the route. My roommate/dear friend helped them plan their cheering strategy, picking points along the route to meet up and cheer for me, picking out silly tinsel hair with my mom. She got up at 5am to drive into LA with her husband and their dogs to see me at mile 3. They met up with my parents at mile 10 to cheer for me on Hollywood Blvd. They all made their way to mile 22 to meet up with my aunt for one final cheering section. Seeing them there was such a boost for my last 4 miles; it really kept me going.
My aunt let us stay at her house the night before the race (even though she wasn't there) so we wouldn't have to get a hotel room. She left posterboard and markers out for my mom to make a sign for us. She got up early to drive back from Palm Springs in time to join my cheering section at mile 22, and after the marathon, she and my uncle had us all over for a delicious homemade dinner.
Mile 10
Mile 22
My cheering section (minus my dad, who was manning my camera and didn't get any pictures of himself)
Of course I can't forget the chorus of supporters who cheered me on in real time on Facebook, sent supportive emails and texts, and sent me their love from a distance.
A good friend of mine, when she heard that I was training, said that she would run the marathon with me. She has run a couple before, and is definitely faster than me, but she joined me on some of my long training runs, and ran with me during most of the marathon (she stayed back with another friend of ours for a few miles who was having even worse knee problems than me). Having her there to share the excitement at the start, the pain along the way, and the overwhelming finish was awesome. Her next goal is to try to qualify for Boston. I told her I'd come cheer for her, but I doubt I'll ever be that fast!
Another grad student from our school ran the marathon; I didn't know he was planning to until just before the race. He wanted to do 26 by 26, which he turns next month. He started having knee problems just about the same time I did--a month before the race. He started with us, and we stayed together for the first 12 miles, but his knee gave him more problems than mine. After my friend and I finished, got our medals and walked a bit, we found his girlfriend at the finish area to let her know that he was behind us. Then we walked back along the course for about a half mile before we saw him. He was limping (although at a pretty good pace) and said he'd been going that way for the last 7 miles. We walked with him to the finish, and at 26 miles his girlfriend spotted us, jumped the fence and ran over with her sign for a hug, and the 4 of us walked the last .2.
Finish
As for me, a 6 hour finish was not what I was expecting, but the knee problems that derailed my training a month ago had other ideas. It started bothering me by mile 3 and was quite painful off and on during the race. But when I settled into a (slow) pace I was able to keep going. And the payoff at the finish line was worth it. My friend thought I was going to throw up, but I was just choked up with emotion and overwhelm that I had done it, and at the love and support that friends and family had surrounded me with. From the beginning, I didn't have a time goal; my goal was finishing. For a runner who is slow even when she's not injured, and someone who had never run more than 3 or 4 miles until a couple of years ago, finishing 26.2 miles at all is an accomplishment. I am very proud of myself for setting a goal, being diligent with my training, pushing through the pain, and completing the race.
I said that every runner has a unique story, a unique reason for deciding to run, but I have a hard time articulating my own. It's something I had always toyed with in my head, and wondered if I could do it. And I did want to prove to myself that I could finish. But why did I decide to do it now? Partly logistics. This year was the last year I was likely to have the time for training for several years; clinical rotations are not friendly to this kind of time commitment. It was partly to keep myself exercising during the stressful last year of my PhD. But probably the main reason was that after the divorce I needed a project that was just for me, a goal that was my own, but separate from the never-ending school I subject myself to. I didn't realize until last month, but this marathon weekend was a year almost to the day since David moved out. Achieving a challenging personal goal seems like a good punctuation mark at the end of this year of upheaval.
Today I'm already feeling a little bit of post-marathon let-down. My parents went home last night. Something that I've been focusing on for 5 months is now over, and that always makes me feel a bit at a loss. I know that the next marathon I have to focus on finishing is my PhD, and that marathon just isn't bringing me any joy these days. But when I wrote above how I feel about finishing the marathon, I realized that finishing the PhD will be a similar achievement, in that I set a goal, have been diligent (stubborn) in pursuing it, and now I have to continue to push through the pain until I finish.
Despite a bit of let-down, the feeling that I am most overwhelmed with today is gratitude for the amazing people in my life.
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